


Smile for Me

by LovingAlex



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Confused Ron Weasley, Draco Malfoy is Bad at Feelings, Eavesdropping, Flustered Draco Malfoy, Flustered Harry Potter, Harry Potter is a Little Shit, Harry is a Disaster, M/M, POV Alternating, POV Outsider, Potions Accident, Pre-Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Tags Are Hard, idk what else to add
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:26:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24663820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovingAlex/pseuds/LovingAlex
Summary: Ron's best friend, Harry, really confuses him sometimes.Not long after his friend makes a fool of himself in potions, Ron comes across a number of odd situations centered around that one bloody Slytherin, Malfoy.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 26
Kudos: 193
Collections: Rainy Day Reads





	1. ROnAld WeaSLEY!!

**Author's Note:**

> (I hate the summary for this, but anyway...)
> 
> I feel like Draco is OOC in this but at the same time, let's all be honest here... Draco is an anxiety stuffed little bean with an anger coping mechanism and I know at least SOME of you can relate to that. Harry copes with anxiety using sass-master comments, and Draco copes with narcissism and defensiveness. They’re our lil awkward nervous balls of anxiety and we love them.

The slytherins and the Gryfindors have potions together. That means both the golden trio and Malfoy’s mean girl group share the same classroom. This usually leads to all of them trying to avoid each other only to be dragged together due to Malfoy and Harry’s arguing. Ron has enough trouble in potions, thanks, he doesn’t need even more distractions.

The two groups -- in some roundabout twist of fate -- find themselves having to share one of the large tables. 

The usual banter goes back and forth between Harry and Malfoy, but Ron is too busy trying to make his potion correctly. He keeps having to constantly look over to Hermione for a comparison and maybe some advice here and there.

As a project that day, they are to each try their hand at making random (harmless) potions from their previous lessons or ones they found in their textbooks. Each person makes one, then they’re randomly handed back out around their table for the tablemates to test each other’s work.

Malfoy ends up with an Alihotsy Draught. Hermoine explains that it’s a potion made from the Alihotsy plant and drinking it or inhaling its fumes induces hysterical laughter.

Ron notices Harry’s usual staring at Malfoy, but he can’t fault him this time since this has got to be the first time they’re witnessing Malfoy genuinely laugh/smile in a happy way instead of a smug smirk of satisfaction. 

Wow thanks alliteration. He’s been spending too much time with Hermoine and her bloody vocabulary building.

All three of the golden trio are kinda caught off guard by it, but not as much as they are when Harry blurts out, “You have such a nice smile.”

The entire table stops dead and they all turn their attention to Harry. “What are you talking about? Did you really just say that? About  _ malfoy _ of all people?” Ron asks.

Everyone’s attention throws Harry spiraling anxiously. He starts gesturing around. Instead of saving the situation, he digs that hole deeper by turning to Malfoy and saying, “You should smile more often. It suits you…” 

Ron must have a bowtruckle stuck in his ear. Or did Harry really just tell Malfoy that he should  _ smile more often _ because it bloody  _ suits him _ ?

“Which potion did you get, harry?” Hermoine asks, being the first one to shake off the confusion enough to wonder. 

Harry is saved from answering by Professor Snape dismissing the class.

Their resident Boy-who-lived is very pointedly mortified, face and ears burning red while his entire body language just screams embarrassment.

Ron can’t keep up with him as he goes straight to their dorm and hides away to probably wallow in self pity.

Hermione convinces him to give Harry some space. This space giving lasts into the next day (Saturday) and about halfway through Sunday before something odd happens.

Ron leaves to hit the loo, thinking it’ll be just a normal visit to take a quick wizz. What he doesn’t expect is to see Malfoy all alone in the bathroom and acting…  _ strangely… _

The blond is leaning onto the sink with both arms, his face a mere foot from the mirror as he… bares his teeth at it?

It's not really a scowl, a bit of a grimace maybe? Maybe just checking if he has a spec of bullshit still stuck in his teeth from his last conversation? The corners of his lips stiffly curl upwards into the most awkward and horribly forced smile Ron has ever seen. At least he’s pretty sure that was supposed to be a smile. It reminds the redhead of the large awkward smiles he used to make when he was six and the Weaselys got together for a family picture.

Malfoy only holds it for a second before his face falls back to it’s default scowl. His brow crinkles in concentrated irritation, a small pout pulling at his lips. Then his mouth stretches wide in yet another failed attempt at a jovial smile.

Once again, it drops and he lets out a peeved huff, glaring at himself in the mirror. He’s most likely mad at himself for not being able to manage such a simple task. Serves the prat right.

Ron awkwardly backs out before the ferret boy can notice him and scurries back to the Gryffindor common rooms. 

When he gets there Hermoine yells at him that she's been looking for him cause there’s a test coming up and Harry needs to study instead of sulking in bed under the invisibility cloak. Ron doesn’t pay much attention to the details since his head is still reeling about what happened in the bathroom.

She pushes him towards the boys’ rooms and orders him to bring Harry down since she can’t go up there herself.

Ron enters their room, but he has doubts on whether Harry is there at all. The room is empty. He goes to Harry’s bed and can barely make out a dip in the mattress. It turns out she was right (like bloody always), cause when he reaches out, Harry is there under the invisibility cloak. He tries to yank it off, but Harry has a good hold on it. The other boy peeks out from under the cloak. Ron snorts at what looks like a piece of a floating face.

“What’d you want, Ron?” The boy sounds like he’s come to terms with his impending death and Ron is the one inconvenient straw that broke the camel’s back of his will to live. Or a whiny child who’s sulk has been interrupted by a nagging parent. Either comparison works.

Harry can’t even look him in the eye, so Ron tries to lighten the mood by telling him about the…  _ scene  _ he came across in the bathroom. “Well while you’ve been here, I ran into a certain ferret in the bathroom. He was smiling in the mirror like he was practicing or something. It was kinda weird and I wish you were there so we could have laughed in his face together.”

Harry blinks a few times, then lowers the cloak off of his head a bit more. Ah yes, a floating head is way easier to talk to than a floating forehead and eyes. “Are you serious?”

“I don’t think I’m old enough to be your godfather, but yeah.”

Harry snorts and chokes a laugh before hitting him in the arm. 

“C’mon mate, Hermoine’s throwing a fit that we all gotta study. Don’t leave me to the wolves all alone,” Ron urges, finally able to slide the cloak the rest of the way off Harry.

With a sigh, Harry takes the cloak back to fold and put it away before following Ron down to the common room to study.

...

The next day, Ron is speed walking across the courtyard, heading back to the dorms because he broke his quill (again) and needs his backup’s backup quill he left in his trunk.

The back of a familiar head of messy dark hair catches his attention from the corner of his eye.

Harry is on the other side of the quad, going the opposite direction of their next class, but not towards the dorms like Ron is.

A question as to why Harry is going that way in particular floats to the forefront of Ron’s mind. Pushing aside what he was doing in order to sort out his curiosity, he makes his way over to see where Harry is heading so conspicuously. 

Down the side walkway Harry takes, stands Draco bloody Malfoy all alone. Harry stops and they start talking. Ron contemplates going over to be a mediator and give Harry any needed backup. As far as he knows, Malfoy’s block heads aren’t to be seen because they’re actually hiding and waiting for a good opening to attack.

After a moment, he decides to stay back for now. No reason to jump in when the two of them seem to be acting  _ civil _ with each other. He’d much rather see where the hell this was all going to go. If things turn south, he’ll easily be able to rush over.

Over at the end of the corridor, Harry takes out a crumpled and creased sheet of parchment, showing it to Malfoy.

The Slytherin looks away and scratches his jaw. Ron would think the boy was being bashful if he believed Malfoy was even capable of emotions other than pompous, angry, or overly dramatic. 

Harry wiggles the paper in emphasis and Ron can hear the lilt of his voice as he asks a question, the distance between them keeping the words unrecognisable. Maybe he should step closer to hear what they’re saying? No, he may be curious, but if he moves closer they might spot him and the entire point would be mute.

Malfoy says something in response, nervously clears his throat, then gives Harry an improved version of the smile Ron saw in the restroom the day before.

Sadly, the smile is still rather fake and strained looking. It doesn’t meet the boy’s eyes and his muscles are too unnaturally stiff.

Harry snorts a laugh right in the blond’s face.

The paler boy’s face floods red with an embarrassed blush. Malfoy mutters something in outrage and goes to storm off, but Harry stops him by grabbing his wrist.

Ron can easily guess that the boy is apologizing (though he doesn’t get why, seeing how Malfoy kinda deserves to get laughed at right in his arse face, Ron gladly volunteers to do so).

The two rivals trade some more words before Ron witnesses something rather odd and unexpected for a second time in the same amount of days.

Harry says something and Malfoy… Malfoy  _ smiles _ and  _ laughs. _ Not in his usual smug way, oh no, it’s  _ genuine _ . Much like the one they witnessed at the start of all this weird mess happening lately.

From Ron’s angle, he can just make out the corner of Harry’s mouth as it twists up into his own cocky smile. Harry says something low. A quiet thing that Ron would’ve missed if he couldn’t see Harry’s jaw move with the words. Then Draco  _ bloody _ Malfoy’s smile turns  _ bashful _ for Merlin’s sake. There’s no arguing it this time. That smile was downright  _ embarrassed but pleased _ .

Something has to be up. Maybe Malfoy was slipped another potion, or maybe  _ Ron _ was slipped something and it’s making him lose his goddamn mind.

Malfoy says something just as low as Harry did, but Ron can see his face better. Enough to tell that whatever he said, it was uncertain and stumbled. 

What in Merlin’s wet trousers was happening? When was Mr.  _ Ferret Boy _ ever bashful or anything other than cocksure and smug?

Harry’s own laugh trickles down the open corridor, dragging Ron back from his kamakazeeing confusion.

Finally, his friend gestures his hand in an inviting way and Malfoy agrees, the two of them leaving towards their next class, which coincidentally was a Gryffindor/Slytherin potions.

Ron scurries off to quickly grab what he was getting and rush to class, trying to wrap his head around what he witnessed. Either that or come to terms with his loss of sanity.


	2. Resident Golden Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long everyone! The outline for this turned out DOUBLE what the first one was oof. I can’t be sure how long the third one will be (probably even longer), but hopefully it comes to me as easy as this one did! (also, disclaimer: I know fuck all about potions lol so if I described one that was already described differently (whoops), tell me in the comments, please?)

Potions had to be one of his least favorite classes. Not exactly as hated as History of Magic or Astronomy, but it was up there. 

One of the biggest reasons was because it was one of his few classes he shared with Slytherins. There’s also the fact that he wasn’t very good at it, but whatever. It’s not that he hated  _ all _ Slytherins. That’d be kinda rude and stereotyping and Harry wasn’t into that. The real problem he had is when Slytherins are involved, that usually meant Draco Malfoy was too. 

That pompous jerk.

Normally, Harry and his friends avoid Malfoy and his cronies like the plague.  _ Normally _ . Today, though, they were stuck sharing the same large work table. This led to them also having to work together with testing their potions. Snape just had a knack for timing things just right for screwing Harry over.

Harry chooses his potion at random, picking out something called an Alihotsy Draught. The book says something about making people laugh, so it was plenty harmless. Maybe he’d give it to Hermoine. She was stressed out a lot about tests coming up, so a good laugh should help her relax a bit.

At least, that’s what he was planning before his hopes were once again thrown out the window and ran over by a car driven by Snape. They were to pass out the potions at random with no way to know who had gotten what until after the potions were taken.

The potion Harry gets is a weird cream color with a pearly green swirling around. Dear God he hopes this won’t kill him. Who knows how horribly wrong the potion could’ve been made. A few mistakes could’ve made it from a bubble potion to a poison. 

This was a terrifyingly horrible idea. What was the professor thinking? Oh right, he didn’t care. 

Maybe if Harry dies now, he’ll be excused from the term tests coming up. Knowing his luck, they’ll still expect his ghost to take them. Harry takes a fortifying breath and gulps it down. 

The potion has a mild minty citrus taste, making his tongue tingle and his head fuzzy. It’s disgusting. Like drinking orange juice after brushing his teeth.

Laughter bursts out from across the table. Harry looks up from his empty beaker.

Malfoy must have ended up with his draught. The boy tries to muffle himself behind his hands, but soon he’s almost doubled over in uncontrollable guffaws. Harry swears he’s never seen the boy laugh so genuinely.

So… pleasantly…

“You have such a nice smile.”

  
  


Everyone stops dead, turning their attention on him. “What are you talking about? Did you really just say that? About malfoy of all people?” his friend asks. 

Oh God, no, he did  _ not _ mean to say that. What the hell kind of potion did he take!? Harry panics. He starts gesturing his hands and stammers out, “You should smile more often. It suits you!” 

That is  **_NOT_ ** what he meant to say!! 

Malfoy’s laughter has died down to simple chuckles. His brows draw together, creasing his forehead in confusion as he uses the back of his index finger to wipe away some tears that have gathered in his eyes.

A few seconds pass in silence. Sweat beads uncomfortably at the back of his neck.

“Which potion did you get, Harry?” Hermoine asks him. Sweet, caring, bloody smart, Hermoine. He sure wishes he knew the answer to that question.

Malfoy looks like he’s realised something, but clamps his mouth shut in a thin line. Thankfully, Harry is saved from more embarrassment by Snape dismissing the class. 

He might hate the professor but at the moment, he could kiss the man. Wait, no, that’s still pretty disgusting, never mind.

Harry hightails it back to the dorms, leaving his two friends behind.

As soon as he gets to his shared room, he digs out his invisibility cloak and curls up under it on his bed.

…

He expects Ron to barge in asking questions he either can’t or doesn’t want to answer. It’s not until what feels like an hour has passed, that he relaxes. Hermoine must’ve kept Ron away. He’ll have to thank her for it later.

The lack of questions last for almost two blissful days. And by ‘blissful’ he means a weekend spent hiding in the dorms, wishing to be tossed into the void, sneaking down to get food under the cover of his cloak, and silently drowning in embarrassment as he valiantly tries to  _ not _ think about how attractive Malfoy was when he smiled. Not thinking about the deep laugh lines that bracket his mouth, or how his eyes crinkle or the bit of extra shine that sparkled in his eyes--  _ Damn it he’s at it again _ !

Why did he have to say such a thing to the horrible Slytherin? No, better question, why did he then proceed to tell the blond that he needed to smile more often? “ _ It suits you,”  _ did Harry go mad?

He’s brought out of his continuous spiral of thoughts by Ron yanking on his cloak. He peeks out from underneath it, not willing to face the impending barrage of questions just yet. Yeah it’s been two days, but still. Can’t a kid wallow over his misery in peace?

Ron bloody snorts in his face. What a great start.

“What’d you want, Ron?” he does  _ not _ whine like a baby. Harry can’t bring himself to look up from the sheets in front of him, not ready to see the look Ron is most likely giving him. 

Instead of diving right into questioning like Harry expected, Ron sits down on the edge of his bed and tells him something rather peculiar even for them. “Well while you’ve been here, I ran into a certain Ferret in the bathroom. He was smiling in the mirror like he was practicing or something. It was kinda weird and I wish you were there so we could have laughed in his face together.”

Harry’s apprehension does a record scratch. He blinks a few times trying to process. Malfoy? Practicing his smile in the bathroom mirror? It couldn’t be true. But... Ron had no reason to lie to him about it. Especially with something so absurd. If he was just trying to get Harry to feel better, he wouldn’t have told him something Harry wouldn’t believe. There’s plenty of believable things he could say instead that would guarantee a laugh.

He pulls the cloak all the way off his head. “Are you serious?” He has to know if Ron really is joking or not.

“I don’t think I’m old enough to be your godfather, but yeah.”

Harry snorts, a bit of his saliva goes down the wrong pipe and he chokes a laugh before reaching out from under his cloak to hit Ron in the arm. His friend laughs. Now something like  _ that _ is what Harry expected.

“C’mon mate, Hermoine’s throwing a fit that we all gotta study. Don’t leave me to the wolves all alone.” 

This time when Ron tries to take off the cloak, Harry lets him. Hermoine has a point (like usual). He wasn’t really prepared for the test coming and could use some pointers and last minute crunching. Besides, if he left Ron alone with her on a study rampage, the poor boy wouldn’t survive.

With a sigh, he takes his cloak back from Ron and puts it away before following the young Weasley down to the common room to study.

…

Harry is munching on some bacon at breakfast the next day when an origami crane floats its way over to him. It slides between his goblet and a large bun that hangs halfway off his loaded plate, hiding itself from everyone but Harry. There’s only one person he knows who sends notes in such a dramatic way.

The question is, why was Draco Malfoy sending him a random note at breakfast? It was too early for their usual bickering. Malfoy had a tendency to wait until their first class at the earliest before he tried anything. That is, unless an opportunity presents itself before then. The breakfast after the dementor attack on the train, for example.

Thinking about it, Harry was pretty sure nothing had happened yet. At least nothing he thought to be big enough fuel for Malfoy. Maybe this was about…  _ before _ …

Heat prickled at his cheeks just thinking about how much of a moron he made himself look the other day in class.

Not wanting to risk the subject being brought up again, Harry sneaks the crane under the table to read it.

The paper is mostly blank. This time it doesn’t have a moving drawing, instead it’s a short note. “West end of South corridor of the second courtyard. Before Potions. Alone.”

Short and sweet and rather confusing.

Did -- Did Malfoy want Harry to meet up with him? But why? Was it to get him alone and catch him off guard? No, Malfoy was bad at physical confrontation. To get Harry in trouble like when he challenged Harry to a duel? No, they were allowed in that corridor and it was in the middle of the day. 

Guess he’ll just have to go and see for himself. 

…

When Harry gets to the meeting spot, Draco is already there waiting for him. “I see you listened for once and came alone,” Malfoy drawls.

“That’s what the note said.” Harry shrugs, he pulls out the note he shoved into his robe pocket, “What’s up with this? Who folds notes into swans?”

Malfoy looks away and scratches his jaw nervously. It’s obvious that he isn’t going to answer the rhetorical question, so Harry goes on. He wiggles the paper in front of Malfoy’s face to draw his attention back to it. “What do you want, Malfoy? Why’d you ask me out here?”

Malfoy sighs. “Don’t let this get to your head -- I wanted your opinion on something, so here goes.” The blond clears his throat to ready himself before making a weird face. The corners of Malfoy’s mouth pull wide and he shows a bit of his teeth. Harry is pretty sure it’s a smile. At least, an attempt at one. The muscles are too stiff, it doesn’t reach his eyes and it looks so forced it could almost be considered more of a wince if Malfoy scrunches his eyebrows a bit.

It… It looks  _ ridiculous! _

Harry can’t help it, he snorts and gives one explosive laugh right in the Slytherin’s face. Is  _ that _ what Ron was talking about? Malfoy seriously had to  _ practice _ how to smile in the mirror as if he was practicing some sort of speech? No wonder Ron thought it was so weird? What could this monstrosity possibly have looked like when the boy saw it yesterday? The mental images Harry is able to come up with almost make him laugh some more.

Malfoy instantly stops his bad attempt at a smile. His face quickly turning cherry red with embarrassment. “This is stupid. I don’t know why I wanted to know your dumb opinion anyway,” he grumbles and tries to leave.

Harry grabs his wrist before he can get away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh at you.”

“Well you did, so I’m leaving. Let go.” Malfoy spit, but Harry refused to let go and allow Malfoy to run off.

“I know. I’m sorry. It wasn’t at you or anything, I was caught off guard.” Malfoy raises a brow in question. Harry pushes his free hand nervously through his hair, making it messier than it already insists to be. “I was, uh, I was expecting you to show off another one of your Potter Stinks inventions or call me a big stupid Gryffindor for the thing in potions last time…” Harry means to go on with listing his different theories, but Malfoy interrupts him. 

Harry finally looks up from where his eyes locked onto a random stone in the wall behind the blond. Malfoy was laughing. Well, it was more of a little chuckle, but it was  _ genuine _ . “Quite proud of those pins. Got a good laugh out of everyone’s reactions to that campaign.”

A thought crosses his mind and he can’t keep the cocky grin off his face. “Maybe the next pins to go around should say ‘let Draco be happy’.” he says quietly.

Malfoy’s relaxed smile gets a bashful twist to it from Harry’s words.

“Well  _ you _ , um, Did someone give you more of my Veritaserum or something? You’re spouting off nonsense,” Malfoy stumbles over his jab. It makes Harry want to squish the boy’s cheeks between his hands and let their lips meet. But that would be a little too forward, wouldn’t it? If he just randomly kissed his rival. He doesn’t want to make Malfoy uncomfortable or anything either, so he’ll settle on something more casual. He laughs and gestures down the hallway towards the dungeons.

“Walk with me to potions?” he offers.

Malfoy takes a deep breath, releasing it in a sigh. “Fine.”

The two turn down the corridor, making their way to class in silence. It’s not until they’re about to enter the dungeons that Harry speaks up again. “So, I got  _ your _ potion the other day?”

“Yes. I had made a less potent version of Veritaserum. Almost made a Befuddlement Draught, but the other one caught my eye more.” Harry doesn’t say anything, just stares at Malfoy as they walk down the final hall to potions. “What?” Malfoy asks, obviously uncomfortable under his scrutinizing gaze.

“You know what that means, right? What I said the other day was what I honestly think.”

Malfoy looks away, cheeks pinking a bit. “I’m not an idiot, Potter. Of course I figured that out.”

“So will you smile more?”

“Probably not.”

“For me?”

“Why would I do anything for you?”

Harry blocks the door to the classroom, using his body as a shield to keep Malfoy from going in and running away from the conversation. “Move out of the way, Potter. We need to get to class.”

“Please? I kinda liked it. Seeing you smile. I bet you’d be happier,” Harry pried, leaning closer to Malfoy. He’s always been a bit shorter than the slytherin, but the difference really sticks out right now with their noses mere inches away from each other. “I know you want to, Draco,” he teases.

Malfoy’s face turns pink again. It’s pretty easy to get the boy to blush. Must be because his skin is so pale. Makes it easy to see the blood gather. Quite the opposite to Harry’s well tanned skin. In fact, the two boys couldn’t look much different. Draco is tall and lean, pale skin to match his pale grey eyes and platinum blond hair. Meanwhile, Harry is short, all dark skin and bones from growing up with the Dursleys, his hair a dark mess of curls that always get in the way of his striking green eyes.

“I’ll -- I’ll think about it,” he caves, putting a hand on Harry’s face and physically pushing him out of the way.

Harry has to fix his glasses before following Malfoy into the classroom, a satisfied smile splitting his face in two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NGL I have no idea which year this fits into… The best fit is maybe their third year, but they’re still a little too young there, so I’m not sure :/ I did mention 4th year, so maybe this takes place in 5th??? (Also, I forgot to add a link to the Tumblr post that inspired this when I came across it on Pinterest [FOUND HERE UwU](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/303781937369456309/))


	3. Malfoy, Draco Malfoy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oofta this took a good while to finish! Though in my defense the outline for this chapter alone was 3k words long.

Draco loves potions. Making a potion was like solving a puzzle or riddle. He may not be the best at everything (mostly thanks to that ninny Granger), but he loves solving puzzles. He loves the mental challenge.

Right now, however, the real challenge is having to deal with the Blighter Trio™.

Draco was forced to share a work table with them, Harry Potter sitting in front of him for the entire class. There’s no way the boy deserves to be everyone’s so-called savior. Potter could barely make a beginner’s potion, how do they expect him to defeat the dark lord?

And no, Draco was  _ not _ distracted by the  cute stupid crease that appears between the boy’s scrunched up eyebrows, or the way he bit the inside corner of his bottom lip when he’s second guessing himself.

Ugh but how can Draco finish his potion correctly when Potter’s could blow up at any moment and Granger is constantly having to lecture Weasley on basic potion-making. 

Once everyone was blissfully done, yet another thing has to go wrong. Professor Snape was great and all, but sometimes he had really bad timing. Draco suppressed a sigh as he was handed his randomly selected potion. Merlin, he hopes he doesn’t have Weasley’s. Maybe he’ll get lucky for once and get Granger’s or maybe Blaise? Blaise was decent at potions. Just anything that won’t potentially poison him. 

Almost dying in front of The Boy Who Lived would be so humiliating. He can see the headlines now.  _ Boy Who Lived Witnesses Boy Who Dies! _

He throws the potion back, wanting to get this over with already. He recognizes the sweet starchy taste of honey lemon before a warm feeling spreads throughout his body.

He breaks out into raucous laughter. He hadn’t laughed this hard since Weasley jinxed himself into hiccoughing up slugs. It felt like all the weight was lifted from his shoulders. He felt like he was flying and nothing could ruin the sun that blossomed in his chest. But as quickly as the warmth came, it faded. The laughter kept going though. Unseemly loud and uncontrollable guffawing. The bliss turned into torture.

Everyone in the class turned to stare at his rowdy display. Draco tries to calm his laughter by covering his mouth, but he can’t make himself stop. His cheeks are sore, his stomach muscles clenching unpleasantly, and his eyes watering.

“You have such a nice smile.”

The whole table turns their eyes from Draco to Potter. Did-Did he just say what Draco thinks he said? No, he must be going nutter or something. 

“What are you talking about? Did you really just say that? About malfoy of all people?” the weasel asks. So Draco wasn’t imagining things. (Cause Draco definitely never ever imagines Harry Potter complimenting him, that’s silly)

Potter does a sad impression of a fish, then flails like a drowning man as he chokes out “you should smile more often. It suits you!”

Thankfully, his potion-induced laughter has died down to a gentle chuckle. He wipes away some tears that have gathered while watching Potter sweat nervously. 

Draco? Smile more often? What was the twit going on about?

“Which potion did you get, Harry?” Granger asks the disaster of a boy. 

Oh, Merlin. His diluted variant of Veritaserum. Draco pinches his lips closed in a tight line to keep himself from gasping at his revelation.

Wait, but that would mean Potter meant what he was saying. There’s no way Potter  _ actually _ thought that Draco’s smile was nice, let alone want him to do it more often.

Then again… Draco knew Potter’s expressions like the back of his hand. The look on the boy’s face now was peak embarrassment. He’s seen the look on Potter quite a few times, though it’s usually because of Draco’s own meddling or Potter sticking his foot in his mouth like he tends to do.

Now must be one of those instances. This time, a potion Draco made is to thank for it.

The conversation doesn’t make it any farther before Professor Snape is dismissing them. Potter bolts out of the room before Draco can even comprehend that the class is over. Weasley tries to chase after, but Granger just shakes her head in her usual exasperated way that never fails to always remind Draco of his mother, but he stops those thoughts before they can go anywhere his father would frown at.

…

For the rest of the day and throughout the next, Draco finds his thoughts stuck in a loop. He doesn’t pay much attention to what’s going on, his mind playing over what happened in potions over and over again in his head. 

“Okay, something is up. Draco, what’s wrong?” Pansy huffs, crossing her arms and flopping backwards against the high winged back of her chair. Her, Blaise, and Draco have been rotating games of wizard chess while Crabbe and Goyle were playing Exploding Snap at a table a few yards away. (They used to be sharing a table until Pansy got hit with a stray explosion. Twice. After that, they were shunned to a table farther away before another incident led to them being murdered by the pug-faced girl.)

“I don’t know what you mean,” he drawls, looking down and to the side while brushing off some nonexistent dust from his pant leg.

“Pansy just beat you for the third time in a row,” Blaise points out, he looks up from the astronomy book he’s been reading between games and raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at Draco, “something is clearly on your mind.”

“Wha- I don’t have anything on my mind!” he sputters. Pansy raises both of her brows at him, unimpressed.

“Maybe it has something to do with Harry Potter,” Goyle adds in. Draco sends him a cold glare. The buffoon shrugs innocently, pulling his tie back down from where it was blown over his shoulder and ignoring how his hair is still smoking a little.

Pansy snaps her fingers. “That’s it!”

Draco sighs, preparing for the blow.

She leans forward again, her eyes squinty as she gives him a sly look. “You’ve been out of sorts ever since Potty-Potter made that comment in potions.

Spot on. But they don’t need to know that.

“I have  _ not _ ! As if anything  _ Potter _ says could have any affect on me whatsoever!”

Blaise shakes his head and goes back to his book. Pansy gives him a look that translates to her not believing a word he’s saying.

Draco fears this won’t be the last he’s going to hear about this.

…

Of course, he’s right once again. 

As soon as he sits down at the Slytherin table for breakfast, Pansy is on him. She pesters him the entire time about what could possibly be on his mind, all while giving very strong and unsubtle hints that it has something to do with Potter and Draco’s  _ feelings _ .

After breakfast, he manages to avoid Pansy’s badgering and Blaise’s knowing eyebrow raising. 

When lunch rolls around, Draco is not looking forward to catching their attention again.

Instead, he slips away to the bathroom. Hopefully he could hide out the whole time. He can just get something from one of the kitchen elves later. Or just wait until dinner. Either way, as long as he doesn’t have to deal with that damn Pansy.

Draco doesn’t feel like locking himself in one of the small stalls, so he leans against the sinks as he bides his time. At least Blaise isn’t invested enough to come look for him. Truthfully, Blaise isn’t really invested in much of anything aside from himself.

Something misty moves in his periphery. Draco sighs. “You really should just stick to your own bathroom, Myrtle.”

The ghost girl whines, floating closer from where she was stalking the urinals. “Oh, but it gets ever so boring there. No one comes to visit me.”

“I wonder why. Maybe it’s cause you’re such a perv.”

Myrtle scoffs in offense. At least, Draco thinks it's a scoff. It sounded more like a high pitched bird being punched in the throat.

“I’ll have you know I’m not that bad! At least Harry Potter and his friends still come to see me sometimes,”

Harry Potter. It’s always Potter with these people. The mention of him makes Draco’s thoughts loop back to the incident in potions. He looks at himself in one of the dirty mirrors. 

_ You have such a nice smile… You should smile more often.  _

“Myrtle… Do you think I should smile more?”

The ghost stops her aimless floating and turns her attention back to him. “I don’t see why you shouldn’t. It’s not like you’re dead or anything,” she huffs bitterly before letting out a sad high pitched moan and leaving. He glares over to the spot on the floor where she floated off. Damn ghost and her sobbing.

Draco sighs for what feels like the millionth time. It’s a good thing his father isn’t here. He’d definitely have been scolded for being so improper.

The thought of his father doesn’t keep his mind off Potter for long. He turns back to the mirror. 

_ You have such a nice smile. _

But how can Draco have a nice smile when he doesn’t even remember how to. Yeah, he knows how to smirk disdainfully or when he’s poking fun of someone, but a genuine happy smile? It’s been quite a few years since he’s done something like that without the help of a stupid laughing potion.

He leans closer to the mirror, inspecting the sharp lines of his face. How do you smile again?

Draco pulls his lips back and shows his teeth. No, that’s not right.

He tries again, this time pulling the corners of his mouth a little higher, but it still doesn’t look right.

How do people smile so simply all the time? Maybe his muscles are just out of practice. 

He rubs his cheeks to warm up the muscles and tries again.

Nope. He still looks like a stupid monkey at some muggle zoo. He lets out an irritated huff and glares at his own face in the mirror. Why won’t it just listen to him?

Again, this time with no teeth.

Ugh that only reminds him of his mother when she’s trying to be cordial with an annoying fellow socialite but actually wants to scold them for being so obtuse.

Would there be any spells for this? The library might have a book on it. No, if anyone saw him looking that kind of stuff up it would be the end of him.

He’ll just have to practice a bit more.

…

Draco ends up skipping dinner too. Although, he does come up with a plan for the next day.

…

Potter has been MIA during meal times for the last few days. Luckily, Potter turns up for breakfast this time. 

Now he can initiate his plan. 

With all the subtle casualness he can muster, Draco slips a folded crane out of his robe pocket and lets it float over to where Potter is sitting.

He makes sure to not be looking over at him so if Potter looks over they won’t accidentally make eye contact. That would be too awkward to bear.

He wanted to look over and see Potter’s reaction so bad it was killing him. Would he be pissed? Would he crumple up the crane without even reading it? Oh Merlin, what if he shows it to the Weasel or something. 

Draco rolls his lips nervously, his father’s voice in his head scolding him to not bite his lips or fidget.

Hopefully everything will go to plan for once and Potter will follow the note’s instructions. If anything, Draco can just do something else if Potter doesn’t show up alone.

Maybe insult him? Yeah, that’ll work. It’s his default anyways, so it won’t raise too much suspicion.

…

The wait up until the meeting is nerve racking. Each second that goes by is another second that Potter could’ve spent spilling the beans about everything to his little gang of miscreants.

Draco goes to the meeting spot early so he doesn’t possibly miss him. 

Is he really going to do this?

No, don’t think like that, get it together! You are a Malfoy! You’ve gotten this far, it’s no time to back out now!

Finally, Harry shows up a few minutes late.  _ Alone _ . At least he  _ looks _ alone.

“I see you listened for once and came alone,” he comments in his usual drawl, shoving his hands in his robe pockets to keep them from fidgeting.

“That’s what the note said.” Harry replies with a noncommittal shrug, pulling a piece of parchment out of his. pocket before continuing, “What’s up with this anyways? Who folds notes into swans? You could’ve just given it to me normally.”

Draco scratches his jaw. Him and his mother always send little notes back and forth at the manor using swans since he was old enough to read. It’s become a habit to deliver notes that way.

Potter wiggles the half-folded piece of paper in Draco’s face, bringing him back to the situation at hand “What do you want, Malfoy? Why’d you ask me to come here?”

Draco sighs. Definitely no going back now. “Don’t let this get to your head -- I wanted your opinion on something, so here goes.”

He nervously clears his throat, scrunching up his hands and then letting them hang loose before diving in. With a stiff pulling of some muscles, he gives Potter a big smile.

He practiced in the mirror a good bit before he was able to get a somewhat decent smile

At least, he thought it was until Potter laughed right in his face. An indecent snort and one big guffaw in his face before the stupid Gryffindor slaps his hand over his mouth

Draco’s ‘smile’ falls, face heating with embarrassment. “This is stupid. I don’t know why I wanted to know your dumb opinion anyway,” he grumbles. Stupid Potter and his stupid opinions. Why did he think this was a good idea? No one cares if he smiles more, so why did he even try?

He turns to storm off before Potter can insult him more, but Potter grabs his wrist.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh at you.”

Draco doesn’t believe a word of it. “Well you did, so I’m leaving. Let go,” he spits, brain screaming at him that he has to get away, but Potter won’t let go.

“I know. I’m sorry. It wasn’t at you or anything, I was just caught off guard.”

Caught off guard? Does he really smile so little that it’s that much of a surprise? Potter runs his free hand through his messy hair. It was already a mess, but that really didn’t help it. Draco stomps down the urge to run his own hand through it too.

“I was, uh, I was expecting you to show off another one of your Potter Stinks inventions or call me a big stupid Gryffindor for the thing in potions last time.” 

Ah those pins. Rather genius, really. He remembers the look on Potter’s face when those started going around. He can’t help but give a little laugh at the memory.

“Quite proud of those pins. Got a good laugh out of everyone’s reactions to that campaign.” It was better than Granger’s stupid house elf protest, that’s for sure. 

A smug (and not handsome at all, shut up brain) smile crosses Potter’s face. He leans in a bit and whispers, “maybe the next pins to go around should say ‘let Draco be happy’.”

Draco’s heart trips. Which, why the hell it did that, he has no idea. It’s not like Potter saying his name affects him or anything. Or, you know, the fact that Potter wanted Draco to be happy.

“Well  _ you _ , um, Did someone give you more of my Veritaserum or something? You’re spouting off nonsense.”

That is the worst insult he has ever given. His face feels hot with embarrassment. What in the name of Merlin is wrong with him.

Potter’s eyes crinkle with his smile. Draco swears Potter glances down at his lips for a moment before snapping back up. Draco means to comment on it, but decides against it when Potter gives a small laugh and gestures down the corridor. “Walk with me to potions?”

He takes a deep breath to gather his bearings, releasing it as an exasperated sigh in order to keep up appearances. “Fine.”

They walk together through the corridors, their pace speeding and slowing in a silent dance to both walk together but not let the other one look like their leading.

Potter doesn’t say anything. Draco can’t think of what to talk about, so he doesn’t either.

When they reach the entrance to the dungeons, Potter finally says something. “So, I got  _ your  _ potion the other day?”

Draco sneaks a glance at him to see how he might be feeling about that. Potter doesn’t look over, keeping his eyes frontward. After a moment of scrutinizing Potter’s blank profile, Draco follows suit with keeping his gaze forward.

“Yes. I had made a less potent version of Veritaserum. Almost made a similar potion called the Befuddlement Draught, but the other one caught my eye more.” 

Even without looking, he can feel Potter’s stupidly green eyes boring into the side of his face. 

“What?” he snaps, feeling antsy under the boy’s unrelenting gaze.

“You know what that means, right? What I said the other day was what I honestly think.”

Draco feels heat pool behind his cheeks again at the honesty dripping from Potter’s voice. He has to look away again, not able to handle looking Potter in the face.

“I’m not an idiot, Potter. Of course I figured that out.” he spits instead.

“So will you smile more?”

“Probably not.”

“For me?”

“Why would I do anything for you?”

Ah, there we go. It feels way better to get back to their usual banter. He’s much more comfortable with this rather than Potter’s uncanny ability to read Draco despite the boy being an entire buffoon.

Draco thinks it’s going rather well until they reach the classroom and Potter blocks the door.

“Move out of the way, Potter. We need to get to class.” Professor Snape may favour the Slytherins, but that only goes so far. He’d rather not test the boundary by being too late for class.

“Please? I kinda liked it. Seeing you smile. I bet you’d be happier,” Potter pries, like the stubborn Gryffindor he is. He leans closer, stopping when there’s only a few inches between their noses. “I know you want to, Draco.” 

Draco can feel Potter’s breath, adding to the heat already gathered in his cheeks. His breath smells sweet like treacle tarts and did he always have those little specks of gold around his irises?

“I’ll--I’ll think about it,” he manages to say, covering Potter’s distracting face and pushing it out of his way so he can finally escape from this damning conversation.

Taking an empty seat next to Pansy, his eyes betray him. They peek over to where Potter is taking a seat with Granger. Potter glances over at the same moment and they lock eyes. The stupid prat’s already smug grin widens even more and he gives a private little wave.

Draco’s eyes dart back down to the small cauldron in front of him. If his face keeps heating up like this, people will start to think he’s coming down with a fever.

It’s Potter’s fault. It’s always Potter’s fault. 

And if he makes an effort to smile at things more often, no one has to know who’s fault it is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go! The last chapter! It was fun writing this, so I’m glad everyone likes it!
> 
> I tried writing a bit more Britishly, but idk. How’d I do?

**Author's Note:**

> I was considering making more of this with Harry's POV and then Draco's POV, but that depends on you guys...


End file.
